First there was the retreat

Now there is the siege.

I’m at a wonderful, scenic spot with good food and campfires hard by the Pacific Coast Highway and then, right by that road, the actual fucking Pacific. The scenic coast. The place so beautiful that someone like Magellan got fucked up and thought it was peaceful.

And, then there’s the wine. A lovely glass of a lovely Syrah, right hear seated by my left hand.

But, I, where am I? I am in a conference room looking at folks looking an LCD projector and group editing a document. Another word for my geographical location might be Hell.

I like the folks. The work ain’t always bad, and it’s honorable and shit. But holy fucking Jesus on a popsicle stick. I am not a 12-hour a day worker. I’m good for about two, two and a half. Tops.

Talk with me. Please.

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